


Best Together

by cuckleberrywish



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuckleberrywish/pseuds/cuckleberrywish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvia changes her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Together

Sylvia Noble was a notoriously light sleeper.

It had made her daughter rather good at sneaking around as a teenager, but evidently not good enough, judging by the muffled laughter and footsteps she could hear coming up the stairs. She and that Doctor bloke of hers had come home for a few days, but had gone out that night "to a pub, for some proper Earth fun" the Doctor had said. Sylvia had glared and they’d flitted out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

If the loud thunk following by an exaggerated “shh” was anything to go by, they’d had a little bit too much fun. _What the hell was he doing upstairs anyways?_ Sylvia grumbled to herself and pulled her pillow over her head.

There was the sound of Donna’s door swinging shut and Sylvia thought she’d at least get some peace and quiet now that the Doctor had retreated downstairs.

Sylvia heard some shuffling. Bloody paper thin walls.

And then she heard something that was decidedly not sleep.

She sat bolt upright, completely silent as she strained her ears to detect the sound again. And there it was, a breathy little moan that could have been “Doctor” and some more laughter. She felt her ire rising and swung her legs out of bed rushing down the corridor to her father’s room.

She shook Wilf awake. “Dad she’s snogging him.”

“Sylvia, what the hell— ”

“That alien, dad, I can hear them.”

Wilf gave her a long, shrewd look and then rolled over.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Like hell is she shagging that bloody Martian in my house. I am marching right in there and stopping it before it goes any further.”

Wilf grumbled and turned over when it became clear that Sylvia wasn’t going to leave.

“Oh come on, love, leave them be— ”

“I will not. She may be a grown woman but she is under my roof and under my rules.”

Sylvia spun on her heel and walked out of the room ignoring Wilf’s weak protests. She stomped straight to Donna’s room and opened the door a crack with every intention of marching in. But the sight that met her eyes gave her immediate pause. 

As it happened, they weren’t snogging. They were sitting together on Donna’s bed, so close their legs were intertwined, both deeply engaged in a small leather-bound photo album. Sylvia didn’t have to see her daughter’s face to tell how content she was; it was in every line of her body, how she seemed to simply melt into him, more relaxed than Sylvia had ever seen her. His arm was slung around her shoulders and she was leaning against him as she laughed and flipped through the pictures.

“You should go,” she was saying to him, tugging gently at his tie. “Mum will kill me if she finds you up here.”

Quite right too, Sylvia thought grumpily, but warmed in spite of herself as he pressed a lingering kiss to Donna’s forehead ("You sentimental old sod," Donna laughed and swatted at him) and stood up to leave.

Sylvia ducked into the shadows as the Doctor passed, and waited a few seconds before knocking on Donna’s door.

“Come in,” she called.

Sylvia strode across the room and sat down on the bed. Donna, she noticed, was still smiling softly, turning the photo album in her hands.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“Mum!” 

“Please don’t lie to me, I just want to know.”

Donna paused a moment then nodded stiffly and Sylvia made a noncommittal noise in her throat. For some reason the thought only made her feel marginally alarmed. 

“You look happy.”

“I am happy.”

“He makes you happy.”

It wasn’t a question. Donna had stopped toying with the photo album and was nervously watching Sylvia from the corner of her eye. “Yeah,” she breathed.

“I guess that’s all right then.”

Donna cracked a smile, and Sylvia stood to leave, brushing the fringe out of Donna’s eyes, uncharacteristically tender. 

“I’m best with him. We’re best together,” Donna said, smiling to herself.

In that moment, Sylvia couldn't have agreed more.


End file.
